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Tuesday, March 08, 2005
EVINCE
Chapter 1
The sun slowly rose over the hills bathing the old house with a warm orange tint. House number 7456 stood two stories high; an off white structure with neatly trimmed square hedges and perfectly cut green grass, it stood completely uniform with its neighbors. The inner mechanism of the house sparked to life producing an almost unperceivable humm.
Making its periodic melodic ting, house 7456 woke up its inhabitants. Suddenly small armies of triangular mechanical beings flung out into the yard from small passageways at the base of the house. These little “creatures” happily re trimmed, fertilized and watered the fairwayesque grass and perfectly symmetrical bushes in a joyful frenzy. The inside of the house was also invaded by these small battalions, devouring dust and eliminating small insects along their path
Simultaneously, August woke to his inevitable daily destiny and got out of the empty bed, which stood at body temperature. The floor, made of tile (also temperature controlled) reflected the rising sun through the large windows, as he headed for the bathroom. The shutters on the windows along his path blinked open, illuminating his way.
The shower blasted on, at the preset temperature, anticipating his weary body as a mother would embrace a new born baby.
August showered and continued with his routine, precisely on time.
As he entered the eating room, a monitor on the top left corner of the room blinked to life.
“Oh great” more air transport crashes, worsening droughts and a colorful variety of urban violence littered the news.
Breakfast was all ready, squarely set on the large white table, mhhh his favorite: cinnamon/apple tea, toast, and one of those orange gel capsules.
His cup (which came with the house) read “Life is Joy and All Things Show it.”
In stylized white letters, they seemed to glow against the brown cup surface.
. August sipped on his tea, quietly facing the screen but not looking; he was focusing somewhere else somewhere beyond.
After breakfast August headed towards the work room, which was windowless and empty except for a right angled desk that ran clear across two adjacent walls with a fat leather bound book, and an ergonomical sitting apparatus. The volume on the desk was an antique, and it looked completely out of place in the house due to its worn look,
The walls and ceiling were a soft calm pastel grey which seemed to emanate perfect fluorescent light, not too warm nor cool.
August sat down and set to work. He opened the tome, studied the index and started to concentrate. Using merely the power of though, August made the walls in front of the desk become intricately adorned with flashing colorful characters, figures, tables and equations: flashing too fast for any observer to comprehend. August interpreted, analyzed and processed this information in his mind. This was something he could do with tremendous ease. Meeps and bleeps flooded the room every now and again, providing important yet unnecessary warnings.
August; systematically checked his messages, even though he knew that the house would automatically alert him if one of these would arrive.
August did not know many people, especially met them physically, but he had a strange feeling that he was going to be contacted, contacted by some one special, someone he might love. “Absurd” he thought realizing that there were no new messages.
After a couple of hours, the figures on the screens froze in an instant, August sat up and consulted his book again, he was one of the few people that still used books: considered barbaric and completely inefficient, August was content as he was. He worked hard through the afternoon, only pausing to reference the thick volume.
Around five in the afternoon, the house conceded him his compulsive recess. August stood up and opened a window (another thing that was completely unnecessary for him to physically do), the house immediately regulated the temperature.
A figure on the window caught his eye. There was a snail slithering on the window frame. Behind this snail, the slightly overgrown bush somehow seemed to breathe, to humm with life. The snail continued slowly down the pane; a form of life so simple and monopsychic that it mesmerized August, who just stood there staring. August shifted his attention to the hedge; analyzing the minute textures and colors of the leafs and stems,. Suddenly August noticed that the hedge moved, just beyond his field of vision. He felt silly every time he looked though, for even contemplating the thought. It was as if the plants were taunting, somehow calling him.
The sun slowly rose over the hills bathing the old house with a warm orange tint. House number 7456 stood two stories high; an off white structure with neatly trimmed square hedges and perfectly cut green grass, it stood completely uniform with its neighbors. The inner mechanism of the house sparked to life producing an almost unperceivable humm.
Making its periodic melodic ting, house 7456 woke up its inhabitants. Suddenly small armies of triangular mechanical beings flung out into the yard from small passageways at the base of the house. These little “creatures” happily re trimmed, fertilized and watered the fairwayesque grass and perfectly symmetrical bushes in a joyful frenzy. The inside of the house was also invaded by these small battalions, devouring dust and eliminating small insects along their path
Simultaneously, August woke to his inevitable daily destiny and got out of the empty bed, which stood at body temperature. The floor, made of tile (also temperature controlled) reflected the rising sun through the large windows, as he headed for the bathroom. The shutters on the windows along his path blinked open, illuminating his way.
The shower blasted on, at the preset temperature, anticipating his weary body as a mother would embrace a new born baby.
August showered and continued with his routine, precisely on time.
As he entered the eating room, a monitor on the top left corner of the room blinked to life.
“Oh great” more air transport crashes, worsening droughts and a colorful variety of urban violence littered the news.
Breakfast was all ready, squarely set on the large white table, mhhh his favorite: cinnamon/apple tea, toast, and one of those orange gel capsules.
His cup (which came with the house) read “Life is Joy and All Things Show it.”
In stylized white letters, they seemed to glow against the brown cup surface.
. August sipped on his tea, quietly facing the screen but not looking; he was focusing somewhere else somewhere beyond.
After breakfast August headed towards the work room, which was windowless and empty except for a right angled desk that ran clear across two adjacent walls with a fat leather bound book, and an ergonomical sitting apparatus. The volume on the desk was an antique, and it looked completely out of place in the house due to its worn look,
The walls and ceiling were a soft calm pastel grey which seemed to emanate perfect fluorescent light, not too warm nor cool.
August sat down and set to work. He opened the tome, studied the index and started to concentrate. Using merely the power of though, August made the walls in front of the desk become intricately adorned with flashing colorful characters, figures, tables and equations: flashing too fast for any observer to comprehend. August interpreted, analyzed and processed this information in his mind. This was something he could do with tremendous ease. Meeps and bleeps flooded the room every now and again, providing important yet unnecessary warnings.
August; systematically checked his messages, even though he knew that the house would automatically alert him if one of these would arrive.
August did not know many people, especially met them physically, but he had a strange feeling that he was going to be contacted, contacted by some one special, someone he might love. “Absurd” he thought realizing that there were no new messages.
After a couple of hours, the figures on the screens froze in an instant, August sat up and consulted his book again, he was one of the few people that still used books: considered barbaric and completely inefficient, August was content as he was. He worked hard through the afternoon, only pausing to reference the thick volume.
Around five in the afternoon, the house conceded him his compulsive recess. August stood up and opened a window (another thing that was completely unnecessary for him to physically do), the house immediately regulated the temperature.
A figure on the window caught his eye. There was a snail slithering on the window frame. Behind this snail, the slightly overgrown bush somehow seemed to breathe, to humm with life. The snail continued slowly down the pane; a form of life so simple and monopsychic that it mesmerized August, who just stood there staring. August shifted his attention to the hedge; analyzing the minute textures and colors of the leafs and stems,. Suddenly August noticed that the hedge moved, just beyond his field of vision. He felt silly every time he looked though, for even contemplating the thought. It was as if the plants were taunting, somehow calling him.
Posted by: Ofo / 11:01 AM 
